


Supplication

by scorpiod



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Aphrodisiacs, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Blowjobs, Bottom Bill Denbrough, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, F/M, Gangbang, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Loving Gangbangs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/pseuds/scorpiod
Summary: The ritual of Chüd is more involved than they all thought. Bill volunteers for it. Isn’t that what a leader does?AKA the one where they all gangbang Bill.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 114
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Supplication

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plutonianshores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/gifts).



> 1\. There are hints at Bill/Mike, Ben/Beverly and Richie/Eddie throughout, but this is very much a Bill centric gangbang.
> 
> 2\. The mildly dubious consent tag refers to needing to gangbang Bill for ritualistic purposes, rather than all of them engaging in this of their own free will without outside influence. 
> 
> 3\. All the thanks and love to my beta, this fic will be worse without you.
> 
> 4\. This was a lot of fun to write and I really hope you enjoy it!

At some point, Bill is forced to admit that maybe trying to fight Pennywise all by himself is not the smartest of moves. Not when he has five more friends ready to back him up. Not when Mike tells him to at least come back and start the ritual of Chüd in a safe space. 

_It’s pointless to get yourself killed out of guilt,_ Mike says, logical and sound, reaching out to grab him gently by the hand, like a spooked animal. _It won’t save anyone else_. He manages to convince Bill to come back with others to the library, all the way up to his room in the attic, allowing the others in for the first time. 

_The Attic Room_ , Bill chuckles darkly, _like my book_. He wonders if Mike’s read it. 

Mike eyes him and the rest of the Losers when they enter. Now that Bill isn't drugged, he can admire the living space; the mess of it reminds him of his own workspace on bad days, and speaks to a long, long time working on researching IT. The thought makes all the guilt Bill carries roar back up to the surface again, this time for leaving Mike alone in Derry, forcing him to do this for them all. 

By the window, there’s a desk with an old fashioned phone book, a photo that Bill needs a few minutes to recognize as Mike/s grandfather, and pillows and a blanket next to the window seat, as if Mike sleeps there from time to time. It looks like a comfortable reading nook, if it was possible to get comfortable in Derry, staring out the attic window and reading by moonlight.

“God, Mike, you live like this?” Richie asks, who cannot stop touching everything in the room, picking up knick knacks and journals and photographs and everything he can get his hands on. Bill remembers being eleven and their school organizing trick or treating at a nursing home, and Richie kept touching everything, from doorknob to strange medical devices, and putting his hands back in his mouth, until Eddie threw up in horror.

Bill completely forgot about that until just now. 

Mike bristles at the question, and Bill wants to tell him to knock it off, but Mike answers without judgement.

“Sometimes,” he says, not looking up at Richie, grabbing a journal and flipping through it. Bill admires his multitasking. “I still have the farmhouse, but the farm’s gone out of business, and sometimes it’s just easier to sleep here,” he says, nodding towards one dark corner of the library. Pushed up against the wall was a mattress on the floor, large enough that Bill didn’t know how he didn’t notice it in the first place, and a king sized one at that. It was a bare mattress, no box spring, no sheets, a sad looking pillow. Bill imagines Mike curling up here on sad cold-weather nights, wrapping the blanket by the window seat around him, falling asleep with his journal on his chest.

Bill, for a moment, is seized with guilt over his own vast amount of royalties and wealth, and how easily he could afford a much nicer bed to sleep on. 

“Mikey, you know, if you need anything,” Ben starts, trailing off. Mike doesn’t answer, still looking at his journal, grabbing a pair of reading glasses he didn’t used to need. 

“Alright,” Bill says, clearing the tension, clapping his hands together. His shoulders are tight. “So the Ritual of Chüd? How does it work? We all have our tokens.” 

Mike is suspiciously quiet then; he looks up from his journal, glancing around the room at all of them, as if he just realized they were all there for the first time that night. Bill watches Mike swallow hard, the Adam's apple in his throat working heavy. Mike’s shoulders are tense and ramrod straight and Bill feels like he’s missing something. 

“This isn't going to be some group sex orgy thing isn't it?” Richie says, obnoxious as ever. “Because I like you Mike, but I don't really swing that way.”

Eddie snarls under his breath. “Don't be gross.”

“I'm not being gross, Mike is a very handsome, strapping young man, but I'm not into that—”

“ _Dude,”_ Eddie says. 

“It's like they never grew up,” Beverly says. 

Bill is paying attention to Mike. At the fact that he hasn't cracked a smile once, or even seems irritated by Richie and Eddie sniping at each other. His eyes and brows are knitted together in tight concern. 

“Mike?” Bill asks. 

Richie takes notice finally and his laughter takes on a dry quality. “Yeah, it's a joke, we’re not really gonna fuck each other, right?”

Mike doesn't say anything. 

“Holy shit, your ritual includes _Eyes Wide Shut_ roleplay? You didn't think to mention that at the restaurant or over the phone?”

“Would you have come if he said that?” Ben asks softly. 

“No, but that's the sort of thing you should know in advance—”

“It's optional,” Mike says at last. 

That casts a somber spell among them all, drawing them silent. Bill folds his arms across his chest, then unfolds them, trying to imagine what Mike had in mind for them all. “The Ritual of Chüd includes _optional_ sex?” 

“Optional, right? No need to have sex?” Beverly asks. 

Mike eyes Beverly intently, like he's trying to tell her without saying it out loud, willing for her to understand. 

Beverly’s eyes widen, taking a step back. She pulls out a cigarette with shaking hands, lighting it up. No one tells her to put it away, not even Eddie. 

“The way it works,” Mike starts, “we burn the tokens in IT’s lair. We do the ritual; we expose IT’s true form. We shove IT in the vessel where he belongs. We crush IT. But it’s a mental battle—it takes mental strength and fortitude to do that.” Mike takes a deep breath, and Bill notices he’s beginning to sweat, wincing in sympathy. “My research indicates that a…physical act of love, focused on a single group member, will bond the group closer together, turn them into a shield, to make it easier for all of us to access that mental power. It’s optional. But the last people who did the ritual didn’t survive.”

“An act of love?” Ben asks.  
  
“An act of love,” Richie breathes, laughing without any humor. “You mean a gangbang, Mikey? You’re saying, if we don’t gangbang one of our friends, we’re not gonna survive the Ritual of Chüd? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Why a single group member?” Eddie asks, rambling. “Why not everyone?” 

“It’s like, focusing on a single person, turns them into the glue that holds the whole group together,” Mike says, pulling his glasses off to clean them. “It’d be easier if Stan was here,” he whispers, mostly to himself. 

Bill winces. 

They’re all silent for a long while at the mention of Stan's name, debating it. Mike stares at Bill, as if he should know what to do. Bill isn’t sure why Mike thinks he’s some kind of leader, that he can unite everyone—he’s never felt like a leader, even when everyone was following him around. He was just a desperate kid, trying to get his brother back. Being the one to come up with games to play as a child doesn't make him a leader in a fight against evil. 

“I guess that would be me then, right?” Beverly says cautiously. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and Eddie steps back, stepping closer to Richie, away from the smoke. “That’s what you’re saying? As the designated girl of the group?”

“Beverly, you shouldn’t have to,” Ben starts, stepping forward and placing a hand on her arm. Beverly flinches and Ben pulls back right away, thinking better of it. “You’re not obligated to do this just because you’re the only woman, Bev,” he offers gently. 

Bill’s brain is working slowly, trying to catch on, until he finally realizes what she’s saying. “Beverly, if you don’t want to, no one is going to...”

“Pull a train on me?” Beverly asks. There’s a sharp tone to her words, like a weapon, flinging at them. “It’s okay, everyone already thinks you guys fucked me when we were kids anyway.” 

“Beverly—” Ben starts, face scrunching up in pain. “I can do it, it’s okay.” 

Beverly’s eyes widen. She didn’t expect that. _Bill_ didn’t expect that. “Ben...you’re...”

“Me too,” Bill says immediately. “I can do it, I can be the glue, Beverly doesn’t need to let us all fuck her if she doesn’t want to.”

“Yeah, I don’t want Beverly to have to take all our saggy, old man dicks just because she’s the only girl so, you know...” Richie’s impassioned defense dies as sheer anxiety seems to overcome him at the thought, taking a sharp breath. “I could do it, too,” he adds very quickly and quietly. His face is turning red, Bill notes. 

“Richie—”

“You guys owe me one for volunteering as the resident cum dumpster,” he says, chuckling, but it was obvious he wasn’t laughing. 

“Guys, I really don’t mind,” Beverly says, taking a drag of her cigarette. Her voice drops to a whisper. “I love you all,” she confesses, like that’s a dark secret. Her eyes are wet as she rubs them quickly, wiping away tears. “So, it’s not like it’s a hardship.” 

“I said I’ll do it,” Bill says. “I meant it.” His tone left no room for argument, hands on his hips. 

“Excuse me?” Beverly asks. 

“Really, Big Bill?” Richie asks. 

“Are you sure?” Mike says. 

Bill and Mike meet eyes across the room, and maybe it’s Bill’s imagination, but Mike’s gaze is heated, making Bill tug at his collar, feeling both over dressed and overexposed, like a photo negative. 

Mike told him earlier, _if I can get you on board, then everyone else will, too._ And Bill isn’t sure why that’s true, but he’s willing to do this, for everyone’s sake. _That’s what a leader does, right?_

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says, feeling completely unsure. He takes a deep breath. “Let me do this, Mikey, it’s the least I can do.” 

Even those words sound inadequate in his mouth. He tries to imagine what’s to come, tries to picture all of his friends naked, naked Richie, naked Ben, and finds it hard to imagine, the whole scenario ridiculous and far beyond anything he imagined doing with his friends.

At least. Not that he remembers. 

“Oh god, we’re really gonna do this,” Eddie says, shaking, his eyes wide open like a deer in headlights. “I'm gonna have sex with all of you.”

“No, Bill is going to have sex with all of us,” Richie says, “which is not a sentence I ever thought I'd say.”

“Hey, asshole!” Eddie shouts. Eddie has a loud voice for someone so short. That hasn't changed. “When you have sex with someone, you are fucking everyone they've ever fucked! Do you not know how STDs spread? I am fucking everyone you’ve all ever fucked! You assholes better be clean.”

“Hey, my asshole is totally clean,” Richie protests. 

“Can't we wear a condom?” Ben asks, trying to be helpful. “You have condoms, right?”

Mike shakes his head. “No. It doesn't work that way. Adding a barrier would be detrimental to the whole purpose of a ritual. We're supposed to bond, not hold back.”

“So this _is_ a cum dumpster thing,” Richie says.

“Please stop saying cum dumpster,” Beverly says. 

“Also, I don’t have condoms,” Mike adds quickly.

“What, you go bareback with the ladies of Derry?” Richie asks. It’s a bad joke that makes Mike frown at him. 

“I haven’t had sex… in a long time,” Mike laughs, but it’s self deprecating, and Bill can tell Richie regrets saying it because he gives Mike a sympathetic pats on the shoulder. 

“You think you could get it up for Bill, then? I know he’s not the prettiest of guys,” Richie asks.

“Hey,” Bill says, though he doesn’t know why he feels offended. He doesn’t actually expect any of his friends to be attracted to him. 

Everyone is going to see him naked, Bill thinks with a growing amount of daunting horror and nervousness. No, not see him naked, actually fuck him. 

“I’m not gay,” Richie says. “So I don’t know if I could get it up for Bill, even if he were the prettiest guy here,” he jokes. Or it sounds like a joke. His tone didn’t match his face. 

Mike pauses, looking around. “I may have something,” he says.

  
  


***

  
  


“Mike, Mike, Mikey,” Richie starts off, casual and jovial to mask the trepidation that was clear on his face, “why does a librarian have _fuck tea_?” 

“It’s not—it’s not _fuck tea,_ Richie,” Mike protests. 

“Oh okay, a _root_ to lower everyone’s inhibitions, like that’s much better.” 

Bill drinks the tea Mike had brewed for them all as he listens to the argument. It’s warm, burning his tongue on the way down, but it tastes pleasant, floral and fruity, like something Audra would make him. 

The thought of his wife makes him feel a little sick to his stomach, the wedding ring he wears burning on his fingers like a self induced brand, asking him, _are you really going to do this_?

He thinks about IT killing Dean in front of him, and downs the rest of his tea, entirely too fast.

“What kind of library is this?” Richie asks, all mock outrage. “Have you been seducing the pretty library patrons?” Richie's mouth opens wide in delight, clapping his hands to his face. "Is this your _sex dungeon,_ Mikey?"

Despite the situation, Bill laughs.

Mike glares at Richie. “It’s for the _ritual._ I was preparing. This took years of research, you realize that? _”_

“Yeah, appreciate Mike more,” Beverly says, laughing. 

“This is some 50 shades of librarian sex thing, isn’t it, Mike? This is your dirty sex attic.”

“Are you calling Mike hot?” Ben asks. 

Immediately, the smile fades from Richie’s eyes. 

Eddie laughs. “It’s okay if you think Mike’s hot, Richie, he’s very hot.”

“He’s right,” Bill adds, mostly to himself, watching Richie’s eyes shoot into his receding hairline. 

“Some of us,” Mike says, ignoring the conversation going on in front of him. He takes a look around, glancing at everyone, his eyes lingering on Bill for a prolonged moment that Bill feels in his spine. “Some of us are going against our orientations for this. The tea makes it easier to get over it with.” 

Richie takes a deep breath. “So I can get a boner for you ugly losers? Benjamin and Beverly excluded, of course.” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Richie, so we can all get boners. If you want to put it that way.” 

Bill pulls at his collar, feeling warm, and takes a deep breath. He pointedly tries not to look at any of his friends, but his eyes land on Mike—his broad shoulders and large hands and warm eyes and Bill wonders what it’d be like to put his mouth on his collarbone. 

Bill wonders what it’d be like for Mike to fuck him. 

He wants to get this over with right now. 

Looking at his friends, he doesn’t think he needs a magic tea to get hard, though he may need it to stay hard. 

“I’m gay,” Eddie blurts out, startling Bill out of his horny reverie. 

Bill blinks. “Oh,” he says, feeling stupid. Did he know that? Is he supposed to know that? Is that something he forgot about Eddie, with all the time away from Derry? Memories are hard to sift through, when it hits back all at once. 

“What?” Richie asks, genuinely shocked, mouth gaping open like a fish. 

“I think I knew that,” Beverly says, mostly to herself. 

“I really didn’t,” Ben adds. 

“Am I supposed to know that?” Bill asks. 

“No,” Eddie says, voice gaining more confidence, the more he talks. He can’t fully look at them, eyes darting between them all, never landing on a single person. “It’s just something I thought I should say. I’m...not going against my orientation...” 

“Aren’t you married?” Mike asks, then clears his throat. “To a woman, I mean.” 

“Wait what?” Richie asks, still confused. 

“I’m still gay, man,” Eddie says. “I’m gay. Gaaaay. _Gay_.” He bursts into laughter and Bill wonders if the tea gets them high, too, if Mike mixed up his roots, but he laughs with Eddie, grinning at him. Beverly smiles at him as well.

Richie’s eyes are about to burst out of his skull. “What, really? Really, really?”

“That’s eloquent,” Bill says.

“Is this gonna be weird?” Eddie asks, looking at him, eyes narrowing. “Are you gonna be weird about this while we fuck Bill?”

“What?” Richie asks, but Bill can see he’s starting to go red in the cheeks. 

“Okay, don’t be weird about this,” Beverly tells him. 

“Oh god, we’re really gonna fuck Bill,” Ben murmurs. 

“I’m sorry,” Bill says, apologizing for not being a pretty girl. 

“You guys can fuck me instead, if you want,” Eddie says, with a strange breathy tone in his voice. “I don’t think I’d mind. It’s probably easier to pretend I’m a girl if you have to.” 

“Eddie,” Bill protests. For a moment, he’s thrown back into childhood, the memory of Eddie on the ground, crying so hard because someone called him a girl. He can hear his high pitched wails and see his ruddy red cheeks and remember how he and Richie and Stan all tried to comfort him. The memory is like a punch in the chest. “I don’t want to pretend you’re a girl.”

Richie, however, sucks in a breath. “Holy shit,” he says. His voice was low and heavy, like he was seriously considering it. “You mean that?”

Bill takes a deep breath and just comes out with it. “I’m bi,” he says, choking on the rest of the word, leaving out the _sexual_ in _bisexual,_ but it gets the point across well enough, judging from everyone’s surprised faces, all swiveling around to look at him. “So I guess, what I’m trying to say is, I don’t mind either. If you all fuck me. Or pretend I’m a girl.” 

“Way to steal my moment,” Eddie says, but he’s grinning, wide and Bill feels a little dizzy with it. 

“I’ve only told—wow, Audra that?” He feels lightheaded, leaning against one of Mike’s tables for support. 

“What the fuck?” Richie asks. 

“Don’t be weird about this,” Bev admonishes. 

“I’m not being weird, I’m just baffled, we leave Derry for over two decades, and suddenly everyone is into dudes? Are you into girls, Bev?”

Beverly is silent for a moment, biting her lip. “College was a weird time,” she confesses. 

“Oh my god,” Ben gasps. 

Richie just stares, not even making a dirty joke. “Holy shit.” 

“It’s okay,” Mike said. Then pausing, lowering his voice so he’s speaking softer, for Bill only. "Are you sure you want to do this? I can do it,” he offers, and Bill really tries not to think about that. He can barely imagine the way he’d feel within a few hours from now, barely imagine being naked in front of everyone, and everyone else naked as well. 

“Mike,” Bill starts. “I think you’ve already done enough for us all.” 

Mike swallows, hard, and shakes his head, but he doesn’t add a response. He just goes to make more tea.

  
  


***

  
  


“I think it’s kicking in?” Bev says, squirming in her seat on the window seat. Her face is flushed pink, and her hair was sticking to her forehead with heat.

Richie stretches back on his seat by Mike's work table, balancing on the back two legs, dangerously close to tipping over. Richie is at least twenty years too old for those antics. “I think this tea got me high. You gave me the wrong tea, I’m totally tripping out right now. The walls are moving.” 

Bill sweats, thinking of the painful, terrifying flashbacks Mike forced him into a day ago. “Did you give him the wrong tea?”

Mike shakes his head. “It's just hitting differently,” he says, peering at Bill. “How are you feeling?”

Bill wraps his arms around himself, that hyper exposed feeling back. His skin is covered in goosebumps, and his clothes feel like they’re on too tight. His cock is hard in his jeans and Bill is starting to sweat—overwarm, overheated, sticky. “I think it’s working,” he says simply. 

Eddie, visibly hard, tenting up in his pants, crawls over to the table beside Richie and just lies down on it, not caring about the books or stacks of paper he’s spread out on.

“Hey,” Mike protests. 

Richie gasps. “Fuck.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie snaps, defensive, glaring up at the ceiling. “Okay, Richie, just the shut the fuck up, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“I think we should start,” Ben says. “I’m starting to feel something.”

“Benny is hard and ready to fuck?” Richie asks, then instead of leaning into the joke like he usually does, he clasps his hands around his mouth, his chair slamming down hard on the floor.

Bill nods. “When do we start?” 

“Bill,” Eddie’s voice is dry and throaty. Like he's thirsty, throat parched. Bill shivers under his dark eyes. He's never thought of Eddie like that—at least, he doesn’t think he has. “I think you should take your clothes off.” 

Everyone stares him down. Waiting. Like sharks. 

“Yeah, you should take your clothes off already,” Beverly says. She’s by herself on the window seat, spread out against it, much like Eddie, one leg on the window seat and another leg on the floor.

Bill shudders. “You guys, too,” he tells them, self conscious. He turns around, not looking at them, but everywhere he goes, _someone_ is looking at him, be it Richie or Ben or Mike. 

He sighs, and starts to strip, removing his button up first, feeling hyper aware of everyone’s eyes the whole time, then pulling the shirt off him. He doesn’t think of himself as particularly sexy—he knows he’s good looking, and he knows he’s good in bed, but he was never a hot guy people lusted after.

The raw desire in everyone’s eyes hit him like a freight train. 

“Hey,” Bill says, undoing his belt. “You guys, too, this isn’t fair.” 

He tugs down his pants carefully. His cock is embarrassingly obvious in his briefs, straining under the fabric. He’s hot all over now, chest and neck and face burning. His hands hesitate over his briefs but he takes a deep breath and pulls them off as fast as he can, getting it over with. 

“Fuck, I hope you guys are happy,” Bill says, and then stares at his friends, all starting to slowly strip. “Oh. Shit.”

Mike is the only one fully clothed still, and Bill wants to grab his shirt and tug it off, not fair that he gets to remain covered up while the rest are naked. “Mike,” Bill breathes. He resists the urge to grab on to his cock and give it a tug, worried about what a lewd display that’d be. “Mike, c’mon, take it off, you too.”

“Yeah, Mikey, show us that hot bod,” Richie says, before he catches himself. Richie’s naked, Bill notices. He tries not to look at him, but Richie’s covered in chest hair, and he’s so much broader than Bill thought he’d be and his cock bigger than he imagined. He looks away, only to find Eddie stripping down—physically the opposite of Richie, but just as attractive, compact and slender. 

Bill rubs his eyes, feeling like a pervert. 

“Are we all drunk?” Ben asks. His cheeks are flushed, shirt gone. Bill glances down at his crotch; the outline of his cock was easy to see even in his jeans, bulging obscenely. Bill licks his lips. 

“He’s shy,” Beverly says. 

Bill was going to say something else, but he’s caught by the sight of Beverly naked, eyes drawn down to the curve of her breasts, the freckles across her shoulders, the dark pink nipples, her strong thighs and pale skin and dark red patch of hair between her legs. 

“Holy s-s-shit,” Bill breathes. “I need. I need...” he trails off, unable to form thoughts, the childhood stutter coming back. 

“Little Bill wants to play,” Richie teases. 

“S-s-shut up,” Bill snaps, dizzy and painfully hard.

“I think—” Mike starts. Mike is shirtless now and he’s working on taking off his pants, belt gone. The bulge in his pants is lewd, and Bill wants to drop to his knees in front of it and suck his cock all the way down. 

_Jesus Christ._

“—we should start,” Mike finishes. 

“Who goes first?” Richie asks suddenly, eyeing around the room. 

“Yeah,” Bill laughs, feeling a little objectified. “Who wants to call first dibs?” 

Ben and Beverly raise their hands first, before glancing at each other awkwardly. 

Bill, not thinking, says, “Maybe both of you—together.” 

  
  


***

  
  


There’s something very awkward about getting ready to have sex with both Beverly and Ben in the attic of a library, with all their friends watching. The kind of awkwardness that would kill his boner normally except now nothing seems able to do that. 

Bill kneels on Mike’s barebone mattress, staring at Beverly’s face and trying not to look at her body. She’s also knelt in front of him, like two kids about to play patty cake, and somewhere behind him was Ben hovering, watching them both.

“I don’t know if I can—” Bill starts. 

“Shut up, Bill,” Beverly pants, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him for a kiss. Bill doesn’t think, he just opens up for her; there’s a flash of memory firing off in his synapses, brain remembering another time he kissed Beverly, and fresh, wet blood smeared across his face. 

Beverly grabs his hand while he’s distracted, and slides it down between her legs. Bill’s fingers slip in easy, not quite going inside her, but pressing against her slick folds until Beverly gasps against him. 

“Aren't we supposed to bang _Bill_?" Richie chimes in. "Not Beverly?”

“Should Beverly wear a strap on?” Eddie asks.

“I thought Ben was going to fuck Bill?” 

“I...” Ben starts, trailing off, mouth gaping and closing. “I can’t think.”

“Yeah, me, neither,” Bill says, glancing up at him. Richie was right—Ben had the body of every hot soccer player combined. His abs didn’t look painfully hard, but well shaped, his thighs were thick and muscled, and skin had turned a tan color due to working out in the sun. Bill feels a little inadequate, next to him, in his skinny body and pale skin. 

Ben slides down on the mattress next to them, kneeling behind Bill. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Ben asks him, his voice soft and gentle in his ear. 

Bill thinks the question is ridiculous. They were doing this, regardless. The warm heat of Ben at his back was comforting, though, and he finds he likes being pressed against his old friend. 

“Y-yeah,” Bill answers, mouth going dry, trying to chase the old stutter away. “I'm sure.”

“Okay,” Ben says. Warm lips press a kiss to his shoulder blades and Bill’s startled when he realizes Ben is kissing him, and that he doesn't mind. That maybe Ben even likes it, wants more. “Lie back.”

“Lie what?”

“On the mattress,” Ben says. His hands go to his hips, and exerts gentle pressure, pushing him to the mattress. Beverly gets out of the way, scooting over to the side of them both. “Lie down, face up,” he orders and Bill shudders. 

He didn't expect this position—flat on his back, everyone staring at him. He had imagined, tame as it seems, something missionary, back to everyone, no one looking at him.

Bill had never thought himself shy but he feels shy right now, everyone’s eyes on him. 

“Could I ride your face like this?” Beverly asks, stroking his chin. 

“If you want,” Bill breathes, his voice hitching at the thought—Beverly with her legs around his face, Beverly's slick swollen cunt on his tongue, lapping into it. 

(he never really dared to think such things—as a kid, all he imagined was kissing her, and maybe holding her in bed, stroking the hair from her face)

“I think Beverly should strap him,” Richie says in the background.

Strong hands grab his ankles, pushing them apart, like he's a rag doll to play with. Bill turns to see Ben holding his legs open, cock on proud display for everyone to see, and Ben staring at the hole between his legs, which clenches up under scrutiny. 

“Sorry,” Bill gasps, not thinking straight. 

“I gotta—” Ben struggles as he squirts a bottle into his hand, rubbing the clear fluid on his fingers together. He squirts until his fingers are completely wet and coated with the fluid. Bill doesn’t even know where he got that. Mike must have given it to him at some point, Bill too distracted by his own horniness to even notice. 

Ben has large fingers, and thick, and it was hard to reconcile the awkward child he was with the handsome (but still awkward) man he is now. “I gotta—” He starts again, but cuts himself off. 

“Finger you,” Beverly finishes. “We have to finger you open. So it doesn't hurt as much.”

 _Hurt._ Bill didn't imagine it’d hurt all that much, but they were right. He’d forgotten the mechanics of gay sex. 

“I've done this before,” he tells Ben, who is still coating his fingers with lube to the excess, shiny and soaked. 

“You've been gangbanged by your friends before?” Richie shouts from the peanut gallery.

Beverly shoots him a glare. 

“N-n-no,” Bill chokes out. “But I've been...fucked before.”

Beverly sucks in a heavy breath. “What was it like?” She grabs his chin, fingers curling and possessive on his face, and tilts his head to her, so he's looking up at her, not at Ben, not at their friends. 

Bill finds himself taking slow, steady, even breaths. “Good,” he says. It's a little easier to just talk to Beverly like this. “It was college. I liked it. It was never— _fuck_.”

His voice breaks on a moan, his ass clenching tight around Ben’s finger, pushing inside him. It doesn't _hurt_ , exactly, but it still feels like the air has been punched out of him, leaving him ragged. 

Ben winces. “Sorry,” he says, the finger inside him going still, not pushing in but not pulling out either. “You're really tight.”

“You gotta relax,” Mike tells him. 

“Yeah, drink some more fuck tea,” Eddie says. 

“It's not _fuck tea,”_ Mike protests. 

“Hey,” Beverly says, shifting in place. She slides down his body, angling herself so they're pressed together, not quite chest to chest, but skin to skin, her throat near his mouth, her body molding itself to him. “Look at me.”

“God,” he groans. Bill wants his mouth on her—her breast, her nipples, the slope of her throat, the warm throb of her cunt. He can't think much beyond it. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, voice wet, even as his mouth finds her throat and presses a wet kiss to it. 

Beverly gasps. It's a soft, sweet noise that goes down to Bill’s cock and _yes,_ that relaxes him, opening up for Ben—two fingers now and that burns, but it feels better with Beverly here beside him. It’s not the best angle for a kiss, but he finds himself enjoying her throat, pressing wet kisses on her bare skin until Beverly’s body sighs for him. 

Then, Beverly’s fingers slide in next to Ben’s—two of them, smaller than Ben, and dainty, her nails stinging against his skin as she slowly pushes them inside him. 

“Beverly,” Eddie’s voice rings out, “I think you should cut your nails before that.”

“Fuck!” Bill gasps. It’s starting to really burn, feeling impossibly spread wide by two sets of fingers. 

“Is this okay?” Beverly asks. 

Ben looks at him with pleading eyes. “I can stop,” he says solemnly, like he wasn't two fingers deep in Bill. Suddenly, he gently spreads his fingers inside him, sending a flutter of pleasure through Bill’s body, his chest and stomach shuddering. 

“No,” Bill says, taking a breath. “I can do this. I want to do this. Don't stop.”

“Hey, can I?” Eddie asks as he slides in next to them. “I wanna try,” he says and before getting a response, he carefully slides a finger inside him, next to Beverly. Eddie’s fingers aren't as big as Ben’s and not as sharp as Beverly’s and somehow, it still felt a little too much inside him with everyone else. 

Bill gasps. He finds himself grasping for something, anything, holding on to Eddie’s shoulder for purchase. The breath is punched out of him, weightless and light headed, spinning out. 

“Eddie, what?” Richie asks. “Eddie, you don't know his ass has been!”

Bill flips Richie off. Mike laughs, low and throaty. 

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, spinning around to glare at Richie, “I'm not thinking about that, let me fuck Bill in peace, okay?”

“My ass is clean,” Bill murmurs, but it comes out less snarky and more breathy. He’s just so _open_ now, just stretched wide over their fingers. It didn't exactly hurt and it didn't exactly feel good, it just feels _overwhelming,_ unable to come up with words or anything to say. 

Bill opens his mouth and a whine comes out. Without thinking about it, he spreads his legs wide and open, as far as they'd go, to make room for three sets of fingers inside him.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks. 

“It's just a lot,” Bill pants. Eddie crooks his fingers then ( _you gotta move them, not just push in,_ he says—bossy Eddie telling them what to do) and Bill lets out a low groan, one that reverberates through everyone else's bodies. His hips push into the contact, searching for more, and he manages to somehow stretches impossibly wider under that.

“You like that?” Eddie asks softly. “Feel good?”

“I think he does,” Beverly says.

Ben pushes a bit of his hair out of Bill’s face. Bill lets out a soft sigh at the contact, exhaling, releasing the tension in his body he didn't know he was holding in. 

“Holy shit,” Richie says. His voice was closer, and Bill glances up to see him not sitting down at the worktable, but sitting cross legged on the ground in front of them, near them but not with them. “You're almost fisting him.”

“You like the show?” Bill gasps out, forcing himself to keep his head up and smirk at Richie, all teeth.

Another finger enters him and that's it, that's too much, Bill’s eyes roll back. A wave of shocking, prickly pleasure hits him hard, blocking out all other thoughts momentarily. 

Richie never answers him, but that's fine. Bill can't see straight anymore. 

He doesn't pass out but he does go a bit dumb behind his brain. His vision whites out—Bill can’t see who and what is in front of him, his brain just isn't processing it, trying to catch his breath and come back online. 

“That's too much,” Mike whispers, soft and gravely concerned, “c’mon, no one's dick is that big, he doesn't need all that.”

“We got a little carried away,” Beverly says, not apologetic. Playful. Like they're kids, and this is playtime. That thought comforts him, like this is just another way to come back home to his friends where he always belonged. 

He opens his eyes to find his friends— _all of them, he missed all of them, warm and beautiful and looking down at him_ —gathered around him, with various different expressions of concern over their faces. 

His ass clenches tight _,_ like a spasm he can’t control. His cock twitches on his belly. He already feels raw and exposed to everyone, covered in sweat and lube, burning under the stare of his friends. 

Mike stands the furthest away from them, flushed and sweaty and still keeping his pants on. It's a pretty picture, watching Mike walk around with no shirt, his skin glowing with a sheen of sweat, the pants hiding the rest of him; it’s almost more tantalizing this way. 

Bill blames what he says next on the tea.

“Take off your pants, Mikey,” Bill says, slurring his words, like he's drunk. “Aren't you gonna fuck me, too?”

Mike chuckles, almost nervously, and takes a step back. 

“I think Beverly or Ben first,” he says. 

“After all that fingering?” Richie asks. 

Bill tries not to look at Richie. He doesn’t want his eyes to get hung up on his chest, or his broad shoulders which seemed even broader now that he was naked, or his dick, hard and straining after all that talk, and about as big as Richie ever said it was. He doesn’t want to find Richie attractive, after a lifetime of making fun of him and his gangly form. 

“You should fuck me now,” Beverly says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her touch makes him want to sag against the mattress, and just let everyone have their way with him. Bill doesn’t know if this is the tea, or if he’s just that desperate to be near his friends. It’s certainly not a dutiful need to do the ritual properly. “And Ben can fuck you with me.”

Bill shivers, trying not to eye Ben, _to not objectify his friend,_ but Ben’s cock was bigger than Richie’s and looks like it’d stretch him out almost as much as everyone’s fingers did. All Bill can think for a moment is how nice it’d be have to Ben pressed all over his smaller form. 

“Yeah,” he says, revealing a bit more of himself than he’d like, but past the point of caring. “I’d like that.” 

  
  


***

Beverly is past shame as she lies back on the mattress, spreading her legs open for Bill to lie in between them—somehow, having all their friends be naked and exposed makes it easier for them all, like a great equalizer, but Beverly was always the bravest one of them, Bill remembers, watching her call them all _pussies_ as she jumped off the cliff in just her bra and underwear.

(he remembers the bra sticking to her breasts then, and Bill refusing to look at the outline of her small tits; her remembers her laughter, high and light in the sun, and the way her hair glowed around her face; for a writer, he had no words to describe her but he could draw her, red upon red upon white)

This close, he can see her faded freckles on her face, realizing she must not be out in the sun very often anymore. Her shoulders were pale and her skin was so hot, he might burn if he touches her, but he slides a hand down her arm, to her waist, running his fingers along her skin.

“Is this okay?” he asks, struck by sheer nervousness. 

Beverly’s blush is deep red but she grins up at him and Bill feels right at home. She grabs his hand on her waist and brings it up to cup her breast. 

Bill moans as his hands squeeze the soft mound of flesh, his fingers going for her nipple instinctively. 

“That’s my line,” she says, laughing, throwing her head back. She arches up into him and her hips cant up into his, legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him closer. Her nails, her hand, dig into his neck, nudging up his hairline. Like this, his cock brushes against her inner thigh and leaks a trail of wet fluid across her skin. Bill feels shamefully guilty for how much he likes that, his fluids marking her ( _Beverly deserves to be treated better_ ), but he can’t separate the sharp tug of arousal from the burn of shame anymore. “C’mon, don’t keep a girl waiting,” she says. 

Behind him, Ben presses himself against him, almost like a shield, blocking both Bill and Beverly from view, his hands grabbing on to his hips.

(Bill knows this because Richie comments on it— _boo, you whore, we can’t watch like that, Benny boy._

 _Beep beep, Richie!_ Eddie’s irritated voice drifts through). 

Ben’s body is a furnace, and the whole heavy heft of him is solid and warm behind him. Bill could collapse in any direction and have someone cushion his landing. 

Ben’s cock presses against the small of Bill’s back, then down to the clef of his ass and Bill shivers, shutting his eyes momentarily. 

“I think he likes it,” Beverly says.

“You first,” Ben says. His voice betrays the natural confidence of his body, shaky, even as he grips his hips. “You go first, then me.”

Bill swallows, nodding, and for a moment he doesn't know where to look, up or down or all over. Beverly's eyes are burning into him. This close, he can see the bruises on her arms. He wants to cry and apologize, tell her he's so sorry for forgetting her. 

( _It can't be that scary to fuck, Bev,_ Richie’s voice calls out behind him.

 _Then why don't you do it?_ Eddie asks.

Richie doesn't answer.)

Beverly makes the choice for him. 

“C’mon,” she says gently, and she scoots closer, until his cock is pressing against her cunt now, soft and slicker than the rest of her; he still wants to put his mouth there. “I won't break.”

Beverly shifts and Ben moves him, helping to guide his cock, and then he's—

They all groan collectively, spilling into each other, like Bill’s pleasure is all of theirs, the three of them one giant, hyper sensitive unit. Ben isn't even inside him yet but he seems to feel them both, feel their connection, as he slips and pushes inside Beverly's warm cunt. 

“God,” Bill moans; he wants to hide his face in her shoulder, bury himself in her body and _not think,_ but he can't stop staring at her bright blue eyes, the red swollen lips, the rise and fall of her chest. He watches her face as he enters her, sees it in her eyes as he fucks her.

“Is this okay?” he asks. What he means is _you're beautiful._

“We should make it good for her,” Ben whispers behind Bill; he’s not sure if Beverly hears it. “Get her off,” he tells him. 

Bill shivers and feels his cock twitch inside her, trying not to thrust in harder. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, and he places one hand over her breast, thumbing her nipple to hardness. Beverly giggles. 

“I want this, actually,” she says and grabs him by the hand, dragging his fingers to her wet cunt. Bill shakes when he feels his fingers brush against his own cock and then he finds her clit, a slick little nub that twitches when his fingers nudge against it. The sensitivity makes both of them suck in a breath. 

“Oh,” Beverly gasps, arches up and Bill thrusts against her again, unable to help himself. “Fuck me while touching me,” she pleads. “Please.”

“You know how to get a girl off, don't you, Big Bill?” Richie teases behind him. 

“Don't make Bev do everything, Bill,” Eddie joins in.

"Shush _,"_ comes Mike’s frustrated hiss, "you two can just entertain each other, you know?"

"This is the most entertained I've been in a long time," Eddie comments. Bill tries to ignore him. 

“Okay,” Bill says, kissing her cheek; Beverly turns her head and turns it into an actual kiss, slick open mouth as Bill rubs gently between her legs until Beverly keens for him. 

When Ben enters him, Bill nearly screams. It's a slow push inside him, hands on his hips, inch by slow careful inch. Bill can feel the tension in Ben’s body, straining himself to keep from just pushing inside. The drag of his cock burns and he _does_ bury his face in Bev’s throat, groaning into her skin, needing to hide himself for the moment. Ben’s cock spreads him wide open and exposing, far more than anyone's fingers, and pushes him even deeper inside her. 

“ _Fuck,”_ he says against her skin. “You're. So much.”

“Sorry,” Ben says. Bill can hear the wince in his voice, the apology; the whole weight of him becomes a comforting blanket, despite the obscene stretch of his cock. 

Beverly lets out a cry, her nails stinging in his skin. Bill moans into her skin, trying to remember what to do with his hands; he has one on her hip and the other gripping the mattress on the side of her head, struggling for breath. 

“I'm okay,” he says, shaking. “It's just. A lot to handle.” He tries to shift and winces at the burn inside him. 

“Again,” Beverly demands. Her legs spread open, wide, as if she was trying to fit them both inside her, then arches up against them both. Bill whines in the back of his throat, as a sudden sharp wave of pleasure travels from groin to stomach to chest. “Fuck him harder,” she tells Ben. 

“Oh god,” is all the warning Bill gets before Ben obeys, pulling all the way out and then pushing back in—just slow enough that it makes his vision white out. 

“Fuck,” he cries out at the same time as Beverly does, _oh god oh god_ ringing in his ears and he can't tell who’s saying it anymore. Ben doesn't give any warning as he pulls out and pushes back in, making both Bill and Bev cry out in tandem. 

_God, he's fucking us both,_ Bill thinks, as Beverly’s hands slide down his sweaty back. Her nails dig in hard, leaving red marks he'll feel the next day. 

“Harder,” she says, and Bill isn't sure he wants that, wants a moment to breathe, but she grabs his fingers and _oh,_ he forgot about her clit. He forgot to make it good for her. He allows her to pull his hand back to where she's swollen and sensitive. He can't maintain a good rhythm like this, but it's easier to let Ben fuck his cock into her, adding the pressure to her clit. 

(Mike and Richie and Eddie are quiet now)

Beverly grabs his face, pulling Bill forward to her, and kisses him. 

Behind him, Ben moans Beverly’s name. 

Bill moans into Beverly's mouth.

They find an obscene rhythm—Ben fucking them both and Bill somewhere between pleasure and pain, shivering as warmth and heat spreading through him, with Beverly trying to dig her nails into his skin and climb inside him as well. 

“I can't, I can't, I can’t,” just spills out of Bill’s mouth, suddenly, and he doesn't know what he means— _I can't take this many cocks. I can barely take Ben. I can barely handle Beverly._

“You're almost there,” Ben whispers. His hand reaches down, fondling his balls, the root of his cock, pressing down where they meet against Beverly. There's a lewd squelching noise between them. Bill shakes and pushes back against Ben’s cock for the first time, drawing a ragged breath out of him. “C’mon buddy,” Ben says. 

“It's too much,” Bill whines, embarrassed to be cracking so soon. “It's too much, it's too good, I can't—”

Beverly squeezes her legs tight, clenching around his cock, his fingers, holding him there. Her eyes go hazy; orgasm is quiet for Beverly and Bill barely has the wherewithal to pay attention, but he feels her spasm around his cock, her nails digging in hard enough to break skin, and a soft whimper leaves her mouth. 

“Oh,” she says. 

“You're so beautiful,” Ben moans, slowing down, pausing to watch Beverly to fall apart. 

Bill, trapped between them and close to losing his mind, sags back against Ben, Beverly still twitching and shaking under him. “I'm so,” Bill starts and gasps as Ben slams back into him. “ _Ben,”_ he whines. 

Beverly slips from him, inching away from his cock, though he's still being fucked against her, cradled by both their bodies. 

“Bite him,” Beverly demands, husky and honey sweet. “He likes that.” Then, lower still, her voice going straight to Bill’s cock, “I wanna see you bite him.”

Ben complies right away, closing his mouth over his shoulder and that's it, that's enough—he doesn’t know how she knew that, but Bill makes a truly embarrassing noise and ruts against Beverly’s pale thighs, spreading come all over them, hips moving of their own accord, moving with Ben, in tandem, completely gone for a moment. Ben follows him quickly after, making a guttural noise as he grows erratic against him, almost more painful than good. Bill feels a hot wetness spread inside him, and eyes burning, lets out some embarrassing tears as the sensation washes over him. 

He collapses and is too brain dead to worry about being too heavy on top of Beverly, falling into her. 

Behind him, Ben slowly pulls out with a wet pop—the feel of his ass suddenly empty is surprisingly shocking—and lays down next to them.

"They're really hot," Eddie mutters. "All of them."

"...yeah," Richie says softly, almost too low for Bill to hear. 

Mike doesn't say anything, which hurts a little.

  
  


***

  
  


He gets a ten minute break. 

Bill thinks that was the most intense sex he's ever had and it's hard to imagine there's more to come, wondering what else is next, whose cock will fuck him. 

“How was that?” he asks Beverly.

“It was okay,” she says, stretching back, arms above her. She’s pulled herself out from under him and was sprawled out on Mike’s mattress now, another cigarette in hand.

“Okay?” _Ouch._

“You were too distracted to be a good lover,” she says, teasing, her fingers patting his cheek. “That doesn't mean it was bad though.” Beverly chuckles, her eyes raking over him until he feels torn apart. “I liked watching you get fucked,” she says with a grin. 

Bill shivers, and he can feel his cock stirring again—only half hard now, but excited for more to come. 

“Well, I guess you'll like what happens next then,” Richie says. Richie is sitting on the window seat where Beverly was earlier, oddly hunched into himself, his larger body looking smaller than it should be. He had his back pressed against the window, and Bill wonders if anyone could see them, right now. It's a small, attic window though, barely big enough for a face. 

Mike hands him a mug of hot tea. “You may need some more,” he says. Bill takes it gratefully.

“How do you want to do this?” Bill asks Richie. He should be flirty, eyebrow waggle, _how do you want me, Mr. Tozier_ , but none of that comes naturally to him. Bill winces instead, trying to sit up. He feels silly (and embarrassed and wide open, aching), but his hole is already sore from use. He takes another sip of the tea, not caring if it burns his throat. “I don't know if I can go three more times,” he says, wincing. 

“Ah, jeez,” Richie says. “Are you sure you want me to fuck you next?”

“You don't want Ben’s sloppy seconds?”

Behind him, Ben makes a noise of protest. Bill spares a glance and finds sitting on the floor on a blanket, cock flaccid yet somehow still impressive between his legs. Eddie is sitting next to him on the bed now, with his knees drawn to his chest. 

“We could both fuck you,” he says softly. The words hang in the air, no one reacting with anything but silence as Bill processes them. 

Bill’s eyebrows shoot into his skull.

“Haha, what the fuck, Eddie?” Richie chuckles, easy breezy, but it's a nervous, anxious sound. More anxious than Bill is, even now. 

“Like...spit roasting?” Bill asks. He doesn’t hate the idea. It’d be easier on his ass. His mouth goes dry at the thought. He wonders whose cock is gonna fuck his throat.

“ _What?”_

“Like...double penetration...in one hole,” Eddie offers up, and there's a hesitancy in his voice, but he's far less shy than Bill thought he'd be about all this. 

“Oh,” Bill says, feeling light headed. “You wanna do that?” _To me?_ His brain supplies, _you wanna do that to me?_ And that's what gets his cock interested again, starting to thicken with the image of that in his head. 

He wonders how long Eddie’s known he's gay. If he's thought of that before. The thought, the pulling sensation in his guts, of being wanted like this, is the most arousing about this night. 

Eddie shrugs, trying for casual, absolutely not casual. “I mean, it'll speed this up. I'm not that big so it may not feel like too much for you, especially after Ben.”

"Thanks, Eddie," Ben quips. 

“Eddie, what the fuck? You're seriously okay with shoving your dick right alongside mine?”

Bill turns to shoot a glare at him only to find Mike glaring at Richie as well, as willing him to shut up. 

“Richie—” Mike starts. 

Richie shakes his head. “No, I don't mean it like that, like… _f_ _uck_ ,” he trails off, ducking down, and for once, the trashmouth can't find the words.

“I could blow you, if you don't want to fuck me,” Bill offers, staring at the large cock that Richie was trying to hide instead of bragging about for once. “I get it, man, I don't expect all of you to be into this, I'm not even sure I am, I—”

“No,” Richie says sharply, face twisting in a frown. “No, I don’t…mind fucking you.” His voice cracks open at the last word, something shuddering and shaking lose inside Richie, that Bill feels deep inside himself as well.

"Yeah, you sound all up for it," Ben says dryly.

"It’s okay if you don’t want to, Richie," Beverly says, not unkindly.

“Actually—” Mike interrupts, “we all have to at least come inside you,” he says, frightfully easy and casual, like they did this every day, like this was another summer day at the quarry, “so blowing Richie could work.” 

“How can you just _say that_ ?” Richie asks, frantically gesturing at him, “it’s _Bill—”_

Bill can’t help it, he laughs, throws back his head on the mattress and laughs like a madman. Beverly laughs, too, her voice warm behind him and Ben’s voice joins in the chorus. 

“I’m not trying to be funny, you assholes,” Richie snaps. 

“I know,” Bill says, still giggling, “It’s you. You’re so concerned about me, I’m fine.” 

He’s not actually sure he is—he’s ready to pass out, could fall asleep on the mattress here, next to his friends, warm and safe and protected; distantly, he imagines being asleep, out cold, and the rest of them still fucking him until they complete the ritual, and shivers, alarmed at how much he enjoys that thought. 

Eddie stands up. He isn’t laughing. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says, hauling Bill up by his arm until he’s on his feet. 

Bill gets a flash of memory, Eddie always smaller than them all, and yet the loudest, yelling and screaming, trying to get all their attention. There’s a swell of pure affection for the loud, anxious boy in his memories, and it spills over to the man trying to gently walk him over to Richie, hands on his shoulders. It’s right then that Bill realizes Eddie is actually _taller_ than him—not by much, not enough to make much of a difference, but he always thought of Eddie as small even now and he didn’t realize he’d grown past him.

“What are you—” He starts to ask.

“You’re gonna ride Richie,” Eddie says and _oh,_ okay, Bill wants that, Bill can do that, Bill’s cock is fully hard now and dripping from the tip again. He had no idea Eddie could affect him like that, panting for him. 

“Goddamn, Eddie—”

“—holy shit—”

“And I’m gonna fuck you while you do so, okay?”

Bill nods in affirmation, “Yeah, yeah, good.”

Richie pushes himself even further back against the window.

“Eddie-bear, you could get sick!” Richie says, dramatically affecting a high pitched voice that sounds suspiciously like the memory of Sonia Kaspbrak. “There’s no condom! No glove, no love, remember?”

“Oh, believe you fucking me, I am making all of us go to an STD clinic if we survive this,” Eddie, snapping at Richie. “Now, stop trying to make me have a panic attack.” 

“Jesus, Eds,” Richie says, oddly chastened. “I just worry about you,” he finishes, not looking at Eddie suddenly. 

“It’s okay,” Bill says, and he’s in front of Richie now, standing over him, feeling taller than him for once. Richie’s hair was longer than he remembered him last, and there were bits of grey in it if he looks closely enough. His eyes are magnified behind his glasses, lighter than they were as a child and Bill didn’t realize how much he missed him. Carefully, he grabs them and tugs them off his face, leaving Richie shivering strangely on the window seat. “It’ll be okay, Rich,” he says as Eddie doesn’t quite push him, but urges him down into Richie’s lap with his hands on his shoulders.

They both go down together, Eddie behind him, and Bill slotting into Richie’s lap, on his thighs, cocks not quite touching. 

“God, you’re big,” Bill says, without meaning to. He doesn’t mean his cock—he means the whole of Richie, the breadth of him, his shoulders and chest and his height and his fucking hands, and the way Bill feels so much smaller in his lap than he’s ever had—but Richie laughs. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said you’re lucky we’re not measuring dicks,” he says, nervous laughter rolling off him. Richie’s hand shake like he’s not sure what to do with them.

"What happens in Derry stays in Derry," Ben reassures them from behind.

Bill, not thinking, slides a hand around Richie’s cock, stroking upwards and Richie gives him the _loudest_ moan, eyes rolling back like Bill did more just give him a quick stroke. 

“Jesus,” Richie says, hips jerking up, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Sensitive,” Bill teases, then immediately feels bad for it. “Hey, it doesn't mean you're gay. You drank the aphrodisiac tea.”

“The fuck tea,” Eddie helpfully supplies behind him. 

“Bill,” Richie pants, talking like it pains him. He opens his eyes and they're wet and red-rimmed and Bill immediately feels awful. 

“Richie—”

“You’re not ugly,” Richie says, softly, whispered just for him. “None of you are. I didn’t mean it, Bill, you know that, right? Right?”

Bill’s cheeks grow hot. He nods, and feels the urge to kiss Richie, to let him know how much he appreciates that. How much he appreciates _him._ He’s getting all wobbly legged and soft-hearted, like a kid again.

But he can't, not like this. He keeps hearing _I'm not gay_ coming from Richie’s mouth so he just nods. 

Then Eddie is whispering behind him— _up up, move a bit_ —and Bill lets go of Richie’s cock only to find himself sliding on top of him, Eddie helping him ease down, until he’s sitting on it completely.

For a moment he can’t even speak; he opens his mouth in a silent moan, unable to make any noise. Richie’s dick isn’t really bigger than Ben’s—perhaps a bit longer, but it’s not like they measured dicks to compare, it’s negligible—but it goes in easy inside him, slipping in, guided by the slick of the lube and Ben’s come, and feels completely like it's too much, too large, the pressure hot and deep and burning inside him.

“Holy shit,” Richie breathes. He still doesn’t know what to do with his hands, fumbling with them, until they land large and splayed open on Bill’s sweat slick back.

“God, you’re still dripping,” Eddie gasps behind him. His fingers are feeling up the cleft of his ass, where Richie’s dick bottoms out, the root of his cock. Bill’s thighs begin to shake. He doesn’t know if he’s athletic enough for this position. His cock is leaking against Richie’s stomach, catching on the hair of his belly that trails down. He can’t believe how turned on he still is. 

“ _Holy shit,_ ” Richie says, “you’re all hot, holy shit, holy shit.”

“Oh, _fuck,_ why are you so big?” Bill manages to spit out at last.

Beverly laughs behind him; he can feel, rather than hear, Mike wince. Eddie’s hands are cupping his ass now and he can feel his cock drag across his lower back; it’s _filthy,_ having his precome across his skin like this, but the feel of it makes his insides shudder; he enjoys the filthy drag of it, surrounded by all of his friends’ fluids.

He expects Richie to crack a joke, or brag about his big cock, especially now that everyone is finally acknowledging it. Instead, Richie pulls a face, apologetic. “I’m sorry, it just grew that way,” he says.

Bill, charmed despite himself, laughs. “Feels good,” he says. 

“You have to move,” Eddie tells him. Bill makes a _ngg_ noise of protest in the back of his throat. Moving is too hard—he knows how this works, he knows how to ride a man even though it’s been literally years, but he just wants to sit on Richie’s cock and feel the pulses and twitches of it inside him. He leans forward into Richie’s body, resting his head against his chest. 

“Oh,” Richie says. It’s a soft noise. One hand moves to the back of his neck, just holding him there. 

“I think he’s tired,” Mike says, “help him.” 

“Fuck, he’s heavy, okay,” Eddie complains. 

“I've never done this,” Richie whispers to him, words practically spat out like they were a bomb, a hot potato, shaking. 

“I know,” Bill breathes, speaking to his skin, to his throat, his collarbone. Without thinking, in a daze of lust and painful-pleasurable burning pressure, he licks Richie’s throat, finding him salty sweet. Richie moans for him, hips pushing up inside him, drawing a sharp noise out of Bill. “It's okay, it's okay,” he reassures him once he catches his breath. “You feel good, I like it.”

“No, I've never done _this._ With anyone.”

The words don’t register to Bill— _I know, I know, you’re not gay_ —and then Eddie speaks. 

“Holy shit, man,” Eddie says, “you're a virgin?” 

“No,” Richie shakes his head. “No, I’ve done stuff, but…I may as well be.”

“ _Richie,_ ” someone says; it sounds like Beverly, soft and sweet, but it could have been Ben, too. They’re blurring together in Bill’s head. 

“I can’t believe you don’t know what to do with your dick,” Eddie says. 

Bill doesn't know what that means and he doesn't know how to ask because Eddie’s cock is at his entrance now, and the blunt head of it starts to push at his hole, push into the rim alongside Richie’s, just like they talked about it and _god god god,_ the sensation of it stretches him further and further until any and all resistance gives way, taking his breath away. 

Bill tries to say something, but all that comes out is an unintelligible, feral animal noise, a low sound in his throat. Eddie is _merciless;_ he slows down, rubbing his back as he pushes his cock in, open-mouth and wet kisses against his shoulder, but he doesn’t stop until he’s _in,_ cock next to Richie’s, chest to his back. 

“Fuck, the two of you are so hot,” Richie groans, drawing out the _u_ in the first word. He leans forward until their heads are resting together, and Bill can feel both of them so close—Richie’s breath against his skin and Eddie’s wet mouth, both at either side of him all skin to skin and sweat against sweat—merging into him, the fullness and connection between them more erotic than anything he's ever in his life. Bill tries to move, just shift, slightly, get into a better position, and a wave of pleasure hits him so hard he cries out—both of them inside him were pressing up tight against his prostate, unavoidable. “I can’t do this, man,” Richie whines. “It’s too much.”

This breaks through Bill’s stupor. “Too much? _You_ try doing this,” he hisses, and his voice is starting to edge towards overwhelmed hysteria, higher pitched than normal. 

“Are you okay?” Richie asks. Mike asks, too. Their voices sort of blur into each other, until all he feels is a wave of concern. 

“It's just a lot,” Bill pants, focusing on taking deep breaths. “So full,” he murmurs. “Never felt like this before, god,” he whimpers. 

Eddie _does_ fuck him then—he puts his arms around Bill almost completely, then slowly, painfully slow, drags his cock almost all the way out, and then pushes back inside until Bill cries out. 

“Is that okay?” Eddie pants behind him. His breath is hot. Bill wants more. 

“Again,” Bill tells him and Eddie obeys, dragging more harsh noises out of Bill with the burn of his cock. 

“Jesus,” he cries. 

Richie kisses him then—it catches Bill completely off guard but he feels like a swooning, blushing maiden for it, moaning into his mouth. Richie grabs his face, cupping it in his hands like a lover, and plants a wet, but soft kiss against him, tongue sliding inside. Richie has kissed before at least, by the way he pushes and pulls Bill into it. Bill shakes from it, grabbing him back by the hair. 

_Have you always wanted to kiss Richie?_ Bill asks himself. He can't remember; it's not a crush. It's something deeper. A blood bond. _I_ _s that what we are now? Lovers?_ Bill remembers the bright red of Eddie's cast, sharp and vivid in his mind .

“Richie,” he whines as he pulls away from him, the loss of contact nearly painful. “Richie, Richie, Richie—”

Eddie kisses him then, almost to shut him up; he grabs him by the hair and turns his face to him, away from Richie and before Bill has a chance to react, Eddie mashes his lips against his. The first thing Bill notices is that he's less sure what to do with his mouth than Richie, but Bill melts into it all the same, craving the warmth of Eddie ( _did he ever want to kiss Eddie? He doesn't remember that either)._ His thrusts slow down to almost nothing, rocking Bill back and forth between them instead, and that's still enough friction to make Bill tremble from the pleasant burn-stretch. 

They take turns like that for a while, rocking him between them, an occasional hard thrust to make him scream, and the two of them kissing him godless. It's like they both want to be with him. Like they both want to have him. Like they both _love_ him. 

Bill feels full everywhere, not just his ass, but down to his bones and marrow, can feel the white hot orgasm growing under his skin, spreading out from where Richie and Eddie are hitting him deep inside, unfurling in his guts and trembling under his skin. He’s on the verge of coming embarrassingly fast, can’t think of anything but the tight throbbing pleasure inside him. He buries his face in Richie’s neck and when he speaks his voice is a broken sob. “I didn’t think it’d be like this,” he sobs. “I didn’t think it’d be this good.”

“I’m sorry,” Richie moans, like that's something to apologize for. Eddie snakes his hand around and grabs his cock, stroking it hard and fast. 

Bill comes right there, shakes apart, his second orgasm punching through him. His body spasms on them both, ass clenching tight around their cocks. Their moans and whines and groans of satisfaction and pleasure become his as well. Bill doesn't make a noise beyond grunts, but it feels like they're all crying out together, in a cataclysmic orgasm, a feedback loop of pleasure, and he's so wet inside now, wet all over his thighs, their come slick and hot, spreading all over. 

Bill truly can't tell when one of them starts and the other one of them ends. 

He loses it a little then. He can't be sure who's talking—he hears voices, but can't hear well, can't process. His mind is hazy and fucked out and he finds himself drooling on Richie’s shoulder as Eddie pulls out with a wet slick sound. 

"He's dripping," Richie says, awed. 

"That's us," Eddie replies, touching his fingers to the slick on Bill's thighs, and then gently presses against the rim of Bill's asshole until he moans softly. "He's all swollen and puffy here."

Richie goes next, slowly moving himself away from Bill until he's suddenly empty—the sensation of emptiness after all that is indescribable. It hurts, ass clenching around nothing. He whines into Richie’s skin and Richie rubs his back, like he's a baby, like he needs comfort. 

He wraps his arms around Richie and doesn't let go. 

“Bill?” Mike’s voice is concerned. 

“I need a minute,” he says. His voice feels mostly gone, ragged. It sounds like he's been in a fight. 

His body aches everywhere. He's bone tired. He feels _wrecked._ He wants so much more. 

“Bill, I”m gay,” Richie whispers to him. Soft and secret in his ear, like when they're kids. 

“Oh, okay,” Bill says and kisses his cheek. He should have a more involved reaction but he's too tired to think any deeper thoughts. “Good for you, man,” he adds, eyes falling shut.

Eddie’s laughter reverberates behind him. 

( _He thinks Richie and Eddie kiss afterwards—Bill thinks that's nice. It'd be nice if all his friends kissed like this.)_

  
  


***

  
  


When it's Mike’s turn, he begs for it. 

He’s back on the mattress, flat on his back, and everyone is surrounding him, watching him in a post orgasmic haze. His ass is sore and aching and he's covered in everyone’s come and sweat and fucked beyond any sense of propriety, and now all he wants to do is beg for Mike's cock. 

Mike is shirtless in front of him and _still_ down to his jeans, the only one still remotely dressed, which Bill thinks isn't fair at all, not with the rest of them naked, not with him aching all over from being used and fucked. 

Bill raises himself on his elbows. “Mikey,” he breathes. His voice takes on a dreamy, drunken quality. If he were standing, he'd be swaying. He reaches forward for Mike, grabbing him by the belt loops, tugging him closer. 

Mike stumbles forward as he comes closer. “Bill,” he says, panting heavily, the rise and fall of his chest tantalizing. His chest is all sweaty and damp, and Bill leans his face against it, licking the sweat off his belly. 

“Fuck _,_ ” Eddie says behind him. He sounds like he's getting hard again, making choked off, breathy sounds.

“Mike, c’mon, take it off,” he says, tugging his zipper down with shaking hands. “I want your cock already. I gotta take it too, right? You're part of this.”

He nearly falls back, unbalanced but the others catch him, prop him up—Beverly and Richie hold him, allowing Bill to lean back against their chests and shoulders and arms. He can't remember the last time he felt this warm and open. 

Bill gets his pants off, revealing tight white briefs, damp at the front from Mike’s cock. He nearly moans at the sight, this entire night turning him into a horny teenager, far too aroused to think straight. Bill mouths at his cock through the damp fabric. Mike looks big and _feels_ big too, thick and heavy on his tongue and smelling of heavy musk. At this point, Bill knows he can handle one more cock at least. 

“Bill,” Mike breathes, taking a heavy breath, pushing his head back and tilting Bill’s head up towards him. It was a surprisingly gentle touch but he can't expect anything less from Mike. “You don't have to do that.”

“I want to,” Bill moans, tugging his underwear off too. He barely has a moment to eye Mike’s cock—heavy and dark and damp at the tip, with an appealing curve to it—before he opens his mouth and sucks the head in his mouth. 

("Is he okay?" Eddie asks behind him.

"The fuck tea’s really kicking in," Beverly says. 

"...should we drink some more?" Ben asks.)

He can feel Mike moan above him, grabbing on tightly to his shoulder, his cock growing slicker with fluid in Bill’s mouth, the more Bill sucks on it; Bill moans with him, wraps a hand around him to stroke him and suck at once. He's forgotten how to give good head, but it didn't seem to matter, Mike is so into this that his thighs are trembling and all Bill has to do is suck and lick around the head of his cock.

(He doesn't know what are his feelings and what's the aphrodisiac and then decides it doesn't matter, it's all him, all of them—Bev rubbing his back and Richie panting in his ear and Ben and Eddie’s soft breathing and Mike’s warm rumbling groan, it all feels like a part of him regardless)

Then Mike pushes him back by the shoulders, until his cock leaves his mouth with a loud pop. Behind Bill, people groan. _That was so hot,_ Richie’s voice comes through, loud and shameless, to murmurs of agreement, like their orgasms or the ritual broke whatever walls and boundaries they had.

“Bill, stop,” Mike says, gentle. 

Bill’s okay with that, because he really wants Mike inside him; his hole actually throbs at the thought, clenching around nothing, an involuntary spasm. 

“I can take it,” he protests. "I can do it."

Mike leans down, crouching with the rest of them, until he's eye level, cupping Bill’s face; Bill makes a soft, shaking noise that shudders out of his lungs as he leans into the touch. He should be overheated by now but it’s not uncomfortable, like a low level fire burning inside him. Up close, Mike’s face is beautiful, brown eyes warm and hands hot on his face. There was the slightest bit of stubble growing on his face. 

“Bill, we don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to, if you’re tired, if—”

“The hell we don’t,” Richie protests. His words are slurred, like a drunk. “We didn't gangbang Bill for nothing.”

“Yeah, Mike,” Beverly says, also sounding drunk, “Ben and Eddie and Richie and me didn’t come out for you to _not_ fuck Bill.” 

“Or at least come in his mouth,” Ben says quietly behind him.

Bill, however, has a different response. 

“Do you not want to, Mike?” He asks and tries not to let the disappointment show on his face, in his voice. Somehow it hurts, just a bit, that Mike doesn’t want to be inside him, and he knows that has to be the aphrodisiacs talking, that normally Bill wouldn’t care so much if his childhood best friend that he hasn’t spoken to for over two decades didn’t want to fuck him, but now it stings, aches in his chest, like every orgasm wrung out of him has made him more and more desperate and raggedly honest. 

( _Have some fuck tea, Mikey,_ Eddie tells him)

Mike kisses him then; it’s a chaste kiss, no tongue even, far too chaste for what they’re about to do. Bill feels like he’s swooning, falling over a cliff, desperately clinging at Mike’s shoulders. 

“I want to fuck you,” he says and just hearing those words make him shake. “I just haven’t done this in so long.”

"We can help!" Ben and Eddie say from behind him, like the true blue friends they are.

Together, they all make room for them both on the mattress—the Losers behind him repositioning, moving around, pulling Bill on the mattress until he’s flat on his back. Ben spreads his legs with shaking trembling hands. In front of him, Beverly and Eddie help Mike kneel down and Eddie even wraps his hand his cock, giving it a stroke or two until Mike shudders for him. He whispers something to Mike that Bill can’t hear and behind him, Richie makes a low pitched sound in his throat. 

There’s a finger around his hole, poking around not too gently; Richie’s thumb slips in and Bill whimpers, clenching around it, despite how loose he feels. 

“Richie,” Bill complains, “I don’t want to come like this.” It’d be a shameful emission, to admit he can come from Richie’s fingers alone, all amped up and high on everyone’s energy, but he was far past shame.

“I didn’t think he’d still be this tight,” Richie says, with a shaking voice, ignoring what Bill actually said. He pulls out his thumb and in a move that makes Eddie cringe, sucks it into his mouth. “He’s still so easy to push into, though.”

Mike is in front of him now, kneeling between his open legs. Bill wraps one leg around his waist to urge him closer. 

“C’mon,” he says, “before Richie makes me come again.” 

“Jesus,” Richie says, turning away. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bill can see Richie’s hard again. 

But he can’t focus on that because Mike slides easily inside him with a bitten back groan; he grabs Bill’s legs and pulls them up, maneuvering Bill like a play thing, until he’s nearly bent in half, and his cock feels huge inside him at this angle, overwhelming, sucking Mike inside him like he belongs here. 

“Fuck,” Bill groans, eyes rolling back momentarily. He feels Mike _everywhere,_ covered in him, covered in everyone. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says softly.

“Wanna hear you,” Bill says, shaking his head, palming at him, with no particular goal in mind, until his hand latches around his neck and tries to pull him down with him, even if the angle is not quite right. “Please, please, please—”

Mike’s hips piston further in, out and in, out and in, out and in, like once he started, he couldn’t stop at all. Every little thrust brushes up against his prostate and makes Bill shake, electric hot pleasure flowing through him. Mike leans as close as he can get in this position, until Mike covers all his whole field of vision and Bill’s nails dig into his neck.

“Yeah,” Bill cries, and he feels tears leak out of his eyes, “yeah, it’s so good, deeper, please—” 

("He’s really into this," someone says—low, thick voice, maybe Ben?

"I thought he’d be tired by now," Beverly's lighter voice comes through his lustful haze.

There are wet, soft sounds behind him, the slap of flesh against flesh and Bill wonders who is fucking who, who is jerking off, what’s happening behind him.)

Bill is sobbing now, overwhelmed and delirious with pleasure edging into pain. The noises he’s making are high and reedy, helpless with it. Everyone is here with him and Mike. Hands are touching him, stroking his hair, his chest, his nipples, the Losers like a pack of wolves surrounding him and refusing to pull away now. 

Beverly pulls him down by the shoulders and before Bill can protest, she sits on his face for a few moments, surprising him, forcing Mike to slow down ( _hey,_ he says, _we’re on a time crunch_ ). She doesn’t stay long enough for Bill to truly get her off, but he savors the briny taste of her cunt, eagerly devouring what he can, licking into her until her juices run over his chin. She pulls away eventually, only giving him a brief taste. "Don't stop on my account," she says, flirty, as Mike resumes fucking him. 

Then someone's cock is pushing against his lips, grabbing Bill’s head and turning it to the side. Bill’s too out to really realize who, just opens his mouth for it and sucks the tip in, licks the warm head and laps up the leaking fluid, trying to take him further down, moaning around the two cocks inside him. It's not the best angle to be fucked this way, not the best angle for a blowjob, but he loves the feel of it, Mike in his ass and his friends in his mouth, and something click-slides inside him at the thought, a strange, _this is where I belong._

_Here with all of you._

Mike, not entirely gently, pushes them away. Bill realizes it was Ben he was sucking off, hard again, Beverly giggling at his back, urging him forward. “Give him a break,” Mike says, "he's overwhelmed.”

“I liked it,” Bill moans. “Felt good.” Feels like everyone _wants_ him now, like they all want to touch him and each other instead of dutifully going through sex, joining Bill as he crashes over this cliff. 

“Bill,” Mike mirrors the desire in his voice, desperate and needy for him. He kisses him again, as if to swoop down and claim him, taste Beverly and Ben and everyone else on Bill’s tongue. Bill does his best to surge into the kiss, wants to grab Mike by the back of his head and pull him close, but he's just so tired and the best he can do is moan into his mouth. 

“I think you just want him for yourself, Mike,” Ben says. 

Richie strokes his hair, his touch surprisingly tender. He slides down his body like Beverly did earlier, pressing against his side. He presses his lips against Bill’s shoulder, then mouths at his skin. Someone else's hand snakes out and rubs Mike’s shoulder. “We got you, buddy,” he reassures him and he's so sweet, sweeter than anything Bill had expected from Richie, but Richie has always been a good friend, _remember that?_

“Missed you,” Bill whimpers when Mike pulls away. “Missed all of you,” he whines. His body goes tight for a moment, like a bow, and then impossibly, comes again all over himself, so hard it hurts this time, pleasure ripping through him with wild abandon. He hands grab at Mike, searching for every bit of skin he can get his hands on, clawing at him. He feels Mike come too, his raw, swollen hole clenching and clamping down hard around his cock, the fluid filling him up and turning him even hotter inside. 

_“Jesus,”_ someone moans. “He’s just covered in it. _”_

Bill can't pick out who says it. He feels dizzy, high, all loose limbed and dazed. 

He passes out before Mike even pulls out. 

  
  


***

Bill slowly comes to in the same place where he passed out, on Mike’s makeshift mattress in the corner of the attic, only now, he was cushioned on pillows and blankets that were absolutely not there before, and far more comfortable than the mattress. He can see the light of the day streaming in peacefully through the small window.

Now, his friends are all wrapped around him on the bed as well, sleeping and snoring, naked limbs thrown around him, or pressed tightly together so they could all fit on the bed. Bill, still half asleep, and not eager to get up, notices Beverly and Ben all snuggled up together, Bev half on top of Ben, and Eddie’s arm wrapped possessively around Richie behind them, acting like the big spoon. 

Behind him is Mike, arm thrown around him, spooning him and snoring gently.

He didn’t know what time it was, except for some nebulous hour in the morning.

“I hope that worked, Mike,” he says, mostly to himself. His body aches like he ran a mile, and he can feel splashes of come on his legs and thigh and back, sticky and dried all over him. It was sexy earlier but now he mostly wanted a bath. “I don’t know if I can face Pennywise like this.” 

Bill didn’t know if he could _walk_ properly. He certainly doesn’t feel mentally stronger to fight an evil clown. He’s not sure if he’ll notice anything different about them until they all go back to Neibolt house, or if he’s supposed to be feeling some deep emotional spiritual connection at the moment.

Actually, looking at how closely pressed up they all were, how lovingly they all reach for each other in sleep, Bill can’t say he doesn’t feel a connection to his friends now; he can’t pretend that there isn't a sense of warmth and fondness for his friends, swelling in his chest, threatening to burst out of his heart. 

“I think it did,” Mike responds, soft spoken, low enough so it’s only for Bill’s ear. “I feel bonded.”

Later, they’ll face IT, time to do or die, come hell or highwater. Bill thinks, maybe even if none of them survive, it’ll be worth it, just for this. 

Bill falls back asleep, waiting to face the day.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, the losers all fight Pennywise after this and everyone survives and Eddie forces everyone to go to an STD clinic. I was going to write that but me, like Bill, was tired after the gangbangs, so cuddling it is. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
